Thursday, October 29


On a recent training course I was asked in advance to think about what empowerment was, situations where I was empowered and what it meant and felt like. At the course we then had a general discussion about what we had each come up with. The common themes were being in control, having freedom, getting what you want, achievement and fulfilment.

On the flip side, we were then asked to think about what dis-empowerment was and the feelings associated with that. I agreed with my group that it meant losing control, having no privileges, being restricted, answering to someone else. But while the rest of my colleagues were saying that made them feel frustrated, angry, unloved and sad I had to refrain from blurting out that it made me feel elated, adored, safe and special.

It just wasn't the right environment to explain that I've realised allowing myself to give up control to a trusted person is the most empowering decision I ever made!

Wednesday, October 28

Real discipline

I've written before that discipline is at the core of my kink. Which is why punishments like mouth soaping, hand tawsing, standing in the corner, being sent to be bed early (ideally with no supper!), the threat of being dealt with in public and having to write impositions are so hot for me. Not at the time of course, but just the actual thought of them, either in fantasy or looking back after the event.

A couple of years ago I was in a long-term relationship with a guy who was semi-kinky. Between us we developed a kinky relationship that worked for us both. Lots of hot and kinky sex (primarily for him but I wasn't complaining!) and lots of role play and discipline scenes (all for me.)

When I think back now I find it hard to believe the type of relationship we had or how we made it work for so long. We were functioning almost on some domestic discipline level, but only as and when I felt like it.

I very much controlled things from the bottom, giving him clear signals on what he could punish me for and when I was in the mood to be dealt with. It was a very tricky situation for him, trying to read me properly. While it was horribly frustrating for me as I had to resort to telling him when he should punish me, or that he had missed an opportunity to do so.

In the end we came up with the discipline diary. In it I had to record all the things worthy of punishment and an appropriate punishment for them. Each week he would look at it, express disappoint and give me the exact punishment listed for the week!

I found this diary buried amongst a lot other rubbish when I moved house. Once of the entries was as follows: Tuesday - missed two lectures = 12 whacks with hairbrush

Looking back now I can admit it was a preposterous charade of discipline. In all honesty it was just an extended roleplay scene that manged to make me feel like I was being disciplined although I wasn't really. But I guess it worked in a fashion, at least for a while.

In the past year I've played with many people and had countless wonderful scenes. Mostly roleplays of schools and reformatories and what not along with some very light spur of the moment scenes where I've been a brat or been getting into mischief with other brats.

While I truly love this type of play I still want to explore 'discipline'. And I don't mean domestic discipline or the fake roleplay discipline of above. But discipline for real life things, punishments for me, not a crafted scene with Emma Jane or one of the many other alter egos. Being sent upstairs to be dealt with for some infraction, as and when it happens. Not a role play. A proper punishment that the top wants to administer for more than the turn on of playing. The desire to change something in my behaviour. And I don't mean punishments that results from bratting to high heaven. Cos that's not discipline, that's a fun game!

This subject is one I've been chatting through with HH lately, in advance of my visit this weekend.

In one of my mails I told him:
I'd also like to do more real life stuff, but not with me bratting you majorly, just for things that you'd prefer I didn't do. My mind is in a real need to be disciplined place right now...
His reply showed that as usual he understands where I'm coming from and what I need. But also acknowledges that what I'm asking for is not easy to do and there is a risk involved, on both sides. So we've agreed that it's something we'll explore.

As he says:
I think the "realer" things can't be pushed. It's very good to have consent to explore them (consentual non-consent, of course) but the spaces where it can happen mustn't be rushed. So we will wait until the right opportunity presents itself. And then you may regret your offer...
Hmmm, that's another thing he's probably right about, I may just regret it indeed!

Monday, October 26


A couple of weeks back I offered to help a friend out by reviewing a document she had written. I like being helpful and the document was of the type my real life persona would be very interested in reading, so it was no chore at all.

But as eager as I am to help out a friend I can be a bit of a procrastinator and weeks passed before she gave me a gentle reminder to look at it. So we agreed I needed a deadline which just so happened to fall today. And this morning she cheekily threatened to report me to Headmaster Higgins if I missed the deadline!

Well Headmaster Higgins is very scary at the best of times, but getting punished for real life misbehaviour is always way harder than for scene related crimes so I wasn't eager to get into trouble for that reason. Therefore this afternoon I duly sat myself down to do my assignment. To motivate myself further I decided to wear my new school skirt, acquired just yesterday. (It's a fabulous blue and black plaid one and I love it!)

So in full uniform, right down to regulation white knickers and a very tight collar I sat myself down and tried to focus on my task.Then shifted restlessly in my hard chair and tried once more. Until finally I put my head down and got to work.

Once I was done I sent it off to her, changed out of my uniform and then went out to play (well out for coffee with a friend!) completely carefree. I think that's the first time I've ever been happy to actually avoid a punishment!

To comment or not to comment

There's a very interesting discussion going on about commenting on blogs that I feel compelled to add my penny's worth to. Casey Morgan blogged about the lack of comments on some of her posts and wondered why her blog seems to attract less posts than other bloggers. If you've read Casey's blog you'll know it's nothing to do with the frequency and quality of her writing.

Thinking back to my own blog beginnings, one of the reasons that I was reluctant to start one at all was that I knew I would judge myself and the success of my blog by the number of comments I got.

My biggest fear was starting a blog that no-one would ever engage with or contribute to. So my first blog post was a bolshy warning that the blog was for me, not the reader and I'd only post as I felt like it. (Funnily that's the only post on this blog that didn't attract a single comment!)

It was also a while before I told any of the established bloggers about it, sure if no-one knew I had a blog then I could hardly expect to have any comments right? But within a week of blogging, I became addicted to getting comments and posted every day for 100 days, so motivated by what people wrote.

So I can empathise with Casey. As she puts is so well:

"I’ve been giving some thought to the subject of blog comments. We all like getting them. They make us feel heard and appreciated. Conversely, it’s easy to feel, when a post receives few or no comments, that people don’t love you."

In response to her I wrote that I was quite guilty of lurking on her blog and rarely commenting and tried to figure out why that was. It is certainly true that I am less inclined to comment on the blogs of people I have never met which includes all the bloggers across the pond. I'm a much more frequent commentator on the blogs of the Irish and UK players I know. And my propensity to comment increases with how well I know them, often using the blogs to stay in touch in between parties and weekend visits.

But the other side of it is that it's much harder to comment on a post that is powerfully written, or is deeply thought provoking, meaning it's easier not to think about it or try to formulate a reply to, which is certainly true for some of Casey's posts.

Serenity then took up the reigns of the discussion with her perceptive analysis of commenting in general. She talked about the different types of posts, some that talk of personal lives and issues outside of kink that are not always fluffy and light and therefore attract less comments.

I can agree with that, while in general this blog is light and fluffy, there are times when I am quite serious or angsty and those posts get less comments than my giggling over shopping or describing my play scenes. But while this frustrates me sometimes, I'm very conscious that I do the same thing myself when reading something more serious on other blogs, finding it hard to come up with something worthy of a reply to such a great or thoughtful post.

Another great point Serenity made was about the different types of blogs out there, dealing with different things, from the frivolous, to kink and play only, angsty or light, to real life deep issues. Just as each of us writes about different things and to varying degrees, we also like to read different things from blogs. Some don't want to hear about our personal lives, some only want to hear or see the beatings and some want to hear all the details while others likes some things held back. But that's their prerogative and shouldn't influence what we write.

When I started this blog I very consciously decided not to write anything personal on the blog, as in none of the angst of my day to day life goes up here. Just because, like everything else about my kinky life right now, my blog is pure escapism from real life. If I ever get to a stage where I have a partner and kink becomes more than just weekend visits interrupting reality then my blog may change to reflect that. And for different reasons, which I've discussed previously, I purposely don’t write about my sexual experiences here either.

My point is that we all make personal decisions about to what degrees we write on our blogs and we all chose what we want to read. Just because I don't write about personal life or sex doesn't mean that I don't like or don't read blogs that do discuss these things.

Our blogs are our own space and they shouldn't be edited to conform to a populist readership. And while it can be hard not to validate ourselves though the number of comments we get, we have to tell ourselves this is not a popularity contest.

Of course that's easier said than done but I have to remind myself that my greatest achievement with this blog is not all the comments or the level of traffic, but all the posts I've written, the thousands of words that I agonised over and the pride I feel when I read them.

Sunday, October 25

Remembering the very first time!

Exactly a year a go today I got my first ever spanking in the scene, courtesy of my now good friend Topcat. Up until that point I hadn't been properly spanked in several years, not since the ending of a relationship with my semi-kinky boyfriend.

It's funny since then I've had much harder spankings, much more intense scenes and played with many more people, but I can remember every single detail of that spanking like it was this morning.

As I've mentioned before, I met Topcat on Spankfinder. I'd been on the site just over a month and had been talking to several interesting guys online, none of whom were in Ireland. With one person I had started an online relationship which involved a lot of self spanking and frustration on my part. It was never enough. Back then I was only beginning to realise that my pain threshold was quite high and self spankings were never going to do it for me.

So I was tremendously excited to realise that there were other kinksters in Ireland! When I started chatting to Topcat he very quickly introduced me to his partner Caroline, and her blog. We exchanged an unbelievable amount of emails in a very short space of time, both of us tripping over our words such was our haste to chat.

I bared my soul to her, asking countless questions about the scene. She was the wise old auntie advising and reassuring, even though she is actually younger than me. At the time she wrote two fantastic posts about our correspondence under the titles of Letters to a young spanko I and II. I'd urge you to read them, as she nicely sums up my initial fears of meeting and playing with strangers and her own thoughts about me playing with Topcat. Great advice for all newbies and not so newbies!

At the same time I was also chatting to Topcat about what my kink and what I wanted to do. One of his emails showed that he understood me so much that I was almost afraid to meet with him. He said he knew I needed a 'serious, humbling spanking' and that nothing else would do.

We were all very keen to meet up but they live on the other side of the country and their next visit to Dublin to attend Nimheach fell on the October bank holiday weekend and I was out of the country. However, fate intervened and they ended up staying an extra night in Dublin than planned and invited me to call over to their rented apartment for a cup of tea on my way back from the airport.

The whole journey from the airport to the city centre I was in a state of nervous excitement. Nervous and excited to meet them, but also nervous of what may or may not happen. While we hadn't talked about playing I both hoped and worried that it would happen. But what if it didn't? Or what if worse I couldn't take it? The weight of what I so desperately wanted and needed hung over me. It was a very big deal.

Making a quick pit stop in a nearby hotel I freshened up in the bathroom, even changing my knickers. Pink and blue with dice on them, I thought they were very appropriate!

Going into their apartment my heart was beating so fast I was sure they could hear it and as usual I over-compensated for my nerves by talking nineteen to the dozen. Caroline seemed to do the same and Topcat tried to get a word in here and there. Eventually we calmed down enough to start teasing and bratting and at one stage we ended up on the floor wrestling for the remote control.

On winning it, I promptly hid it from Topcat, denying that I had it. Once he discovered I had indeed hidden it he pronounced the words that sent shivers through me. "I think you need a spanking."

Retreating to my chair I processed the words, trying to figure out if it was a threat or an promise. When he placed a straight backed chair in the centre of the room and looked at me sternly I realised it wasn't just a threat and I was paralysed. I hadn't a clue what to do, both wanting what was coming and not wanting it either.

Caroline thinking my sudden silence was to do with her, promptly took herself off into the next room, but in my head I was begging her not to leave me. Topcat ordered me over his knee and when I hesitated threatened the hairbrush if I wasn't over it by the count of 3.

That served to make my legs work and I propelled myself to his side. I made to go over his knee but he stopped me, telling me to take my trousers down. I did so quickly before throwing myself over his lap, keenly feeling the humiliation.

Pulling me further across his knee until my legs left the floor, I felt very, very small and awfully exposed. Then his hand cracked down and I squeaked in surprise. Even over my knickers that had hurt. I didn't have time to savour the first smack as several more fell in quick succession. I grabbed the legs of the chair and tried not to squirm too much.

It wasn't long before he reached back and pulled my knickers down. I was suddenly very conscious of the fact I was bare bottomed over this guy's knee getting spanked. It was such a mind fuck. The spanking became inconsequential as my mind tried to process what was happening. Over and over I silently screamed "Oh my God I'm getting spanked, I'm actually getting spanked. I'm over his knee, with my trousers and knickers down and he is spanking me!"

At some point Caroline returned to the room and remarked that we looked like we could go on all night. And it was true, while the spanking stung it was quite bearable.

I was ordered to stand up and I did so, shyly adjusting my knickers. So that was it, my first spanking was over. A lil bit of me was disappointed. But before I could think about it fully I was told to fetch the hairbrush from the bag on the table.

It was a further humiliation to enjoy, hobbling across the room with my trousers down at my ankles, as I fetched the brush. It felt heavy and scary and the nerves came back again.

Once more I was settled across his knee and he tugged my knickers down without any ceremony. The first whack of the brush made me jump, no comparison to his hand at all. Having already got the measure of what I could take he laid them on fairly hard and gave me 20 in fairly quick succession. Despite my best efforts I was yelping and squirming across his lap praying he would soon stop. I had no time to over-think it, this bloody hurt.

Finally we were done and I was more ready to stop this time. We hugged and I thanked him very nicely for my spanking. Caroline laughed at me as I winced sitting down, but my bottom throbbed deliciously. Then we went back to having tea and biscuits as civilised as you like, as if I hadn't just been spanked. But despite my outward calmness I was as high as a kite.

When I got home that night I excitedly pulled my knickers down and examined my bottom in the mirror for ages. I had a beautiful set of bruises on both cheeks. No-one could deny that I had been spanked and I was in my element. I was already addicted and wanted more, more, more.

Time management

Just woken up and spent a few minutes wondering why the time on my phone is different to the time on my computer. Sleepily I figured it out, daylight saving and all that and the happy upshot is that I now have an extra hour to play around with.

So what to do with the hour?

I could and perhaps should, email all those people who I haven't got round to replying to over the past few weeks when I was sick and then working flat out at work to make up for being sick (it's a recession don't ya know!)

Or I could get ahead of myself and write some posts for Winterbrook. Although so far I haven't found it overly difficult, but I know it will get harder as the novelty wears off somewhat and ideas get scarcer. But right now my characters write themselves. One of them in particular just jumps off the page and I wouldn't dare try to edit her strong will!

The funniest thing I found about writing for it, and I think Eliane will agree, I got so caught up in writing their stories and were so into their characters that it became very hard to let them be spanked. Poor Jon Thorn had to have endless patience convincing us to allow our characters be punished at all, let alone perish the thought we would write an actual spanking ourselves. (Is that not the point of a kinky story blog I hear you ask?)

It did happen eventually though and now I'm over the trauma, I could probably do it again so perhaps with this extra hours I'll write another punishment scene.

Hmmm or I could take out all my kinky clothes and play dress up for upcoming playdates. That would be so much fun. I could put on one of my regency dresses and bloomers and pumps and waltz around the house pretending to be Lady Grace and ordering imaginary servants about. Maybe I could even go to the shops and confuse the poor tourists who are always in abundance around here.

Or I could take out my little porn library and read up on a few favorites. Except that might make me a lil bit excited and want to do other things. So maybe I should just let my mind wander and see where it goes. Yes, I should just give up on trying to do anything useful with this extra hour and have a nap, a naughty nap...

Friday, October 23

I want...

It's been a long time since I've been beaten, sigh, a full month to be precise. Can't remember the last time I went so long without a fix. Truth be told I know I've been awfully spoiled with play lately. And if the stupid piggy flu hadn't struck I would have got to play with Jessica and HWMBO and The Lover and Bex and Scarlett two weeks ago and that would have been so much fun. But anyway, I promise I'm not still sulking over that..

Anywho this time next week I shall be making my way nervously over to HH for a serious dose of discipline and abuse. I don't know if it's cause I haven't been playing or something else, but my mind is full of dark places right now. Severe beatings, welts, complete humiliation, despair and body wracking sobs are on my agenda.

I want my soul to be stripped bare, want to be reminded why I love and hate the pain and the humiliation. I want to revert to deep places where I have no control and sink into nothingness safe in the knowledge that HH will catch me. I want to have that high that comes from great play and that makes me fly. And I want to come home sore and sorry, played out physically and emotionally.

But what I really want, is what I don't want. And that's something I need, badly.

Wednesday, October 21

Pure girl porn

Apart from the beatings, role playing and the great group of new friends, my absolute fav thing about this thing we do is the endless opportunities to indulge my shopping fetish!

Like most of the other girls I know in the scene, I delight in collecting new clothing, especially when I NEED to have it for this scene or that. Things like knickers being the main downfall for a quick hit, with stockings and white socks not far off :)

While other things take a lot of planning and sourcing and I love the thrill of the chase in getting the perfect outfit together. I started off easy, the basic school girl; socks, skirt, shirt and tie. Then turned it up a notch with sexy schoolgirl; stockings, suspenders, even shorter skirt, shirt tied above my belly button. I now have several varieties, from American to Irish to Japanese to my very grown up Lowewood one; black blazer, short skirt (very short some might say!) and black heels.

My next serious challenge was to go to Nimhneach and not wear a school uniform. Luckily Lollipop was on hand to help me finding something suitable. We trawled the shops of Dublin and came up with a black corset, red pvc hotpants, black fishnets and dangerously high heels.

Now I am in the middle of my biggest challenge yet, decking myself out for a Regency House Party. Although Lady Grace proved a little bit too cheeky for Lord Fawcett's liking, he and Mrs Derby have still invited her along to the annual event. Therefore I'm determined to look the part of the sweet and innocent, (not to mention virginal!) Lady Grace.

Fortunately for me, Rebecca and Jessica were generous in lending dresses and providing links to other accessories and I'm almost there with what I need, including reticules (not as naughty as they sound!) and bloomers (not as sexy as I thought they'd be!) and last weekend I spent a happy few hours in town buying ribbons and buttons and material for bits and pieces, bliss!

Now I just need to stop buying things or my bank account will disown me. Of course slave girl causes no such problems: naked and shivering, easy!

Saturday, October 17

If you've nothing good to say...

With 'Love our lurkers' day having just passed I've been reflecting on this time last year. I had just signed up to Spankfinder, the previous month and was taking my first shaky steps from lurking to chatting.

Back then I was in a marathon emailing session with Caroline Grey discussing kink the moon and the stars. I was also chatting to her partner Topcat and we were but one week off meeting for the first time! They would be the first of many online folk that I would happily go on to meet in person.

Caroline's was the first blog I commented on with any regularity. And between the blog and my email exchanges with both her and Topcat, I built up a picture in my head of what they'd be like. I'm sure they did the same with me.

When we met some things about them were exactly as I had expected, and others were different. I hasten to add not in a negative sense at all and this process of reconciling preconceptions with reality is one I've had to do again and again.

For example, in my opinion, Caroline is even more mischievous in real life but is often very thoughtful and reflective too. While HH is not at as scary as I thought he'd be and is really very sweet in person and Abel is not nearly as dominant, but just as friendly as I expected. (Although HH and Abel can both be very scary and dominant in an actual scene!)

I'm thinking over all that now as I look back on nearly a full year in this scene. Put somewhat into focus by recently meeting another new friend and us both candidly talking of how the other did and did not meet expectations.

It made me think of how we create an image of ourselves online through our site profiles, comments on blogs and public chats, on sites like IC and Fetlife. The things we say on Twitter, the pics we show of ourselves and those of us who blog, what we say on our blogs. All of these allow people build up an expectation of what we'll be like in person.

I've also been thinking about how that image can be altered by what others tell us. How often someone has told me, "just wait until you meet so and so, you'll really love them." Which I find very hard, being afraid that I won't like them at all, disappointing everyone concerned. Although I have to admit to being a lil guilty of this myself!

But it's the opposite side of it that's more concerning; the negative recommendation. "I doubt you'll like that person at all, you don't play the same way" or "you'll have nothing in common."

I understand this is only human and not limited to kinky people at all. I also know that most of the time my friends are looking out for me. And of course I would want them to advise me of someone who broke limits, ignored safewords and was unsafe to meet. But in general I like to make up my own mind on people.

And blogs are another factor in image building and breaking. When I started my own blog I intended to honestly record and assess my experiences in the scene. But I quickly found myself self-censoring to some degree. I leave out some details and sometimes I refrain from discussing an incident at all.

One form of this censorship is that I don't write in any detail about my sexual experiences or partners. It's not that such things don't happen or indeed that I don't enjoy them but for me personally it's not something I feel comfortable about discussing on this blog. Partly because I don't want to write about the intimate details of what I get up to with people in the scene, something they may feel even more private about than I do.

But also because Emma Jane is just one step removed from the real me. She has the same personality and approach to life, just enhanced through my core kink of CP and discipline. The things her more depraved alter ego may get up to distract from who she really is and what she wants. I don't want to meet other people based on that alter ego.

My other form of censorship is that I try not to write anything negative about someone I have played with. The scene is too small. Even if I don't name the player, it can be pretty easy to work out who I'm talking about.

I'm a firm believer in the bottom taking as equal responsibility for the scene as the top. For me taking responsibility means facing up to the difficult conversations, being honest with the other person and not blaming them for a scene not working out. Or not telling them the scene was great when you really didn't think it was. And this works both ways, the top needs to give honest feedback to the bottom too.

If I have a problem or an issue in a scene then the only person I really need to talk to is the person I'm playing with. And even if I don't get the courage to interrupt the scene itself or even speak up directly post scene it has to be said afterwards.

This post scene communication can take many forms. From a gentle "I'd prefer if you did X this way" to a "please don't do that again" or "I can't read you well enough for you not to safeword" to a more serious "you broke a limit I set in stone and I don't want to play with you anymore."

Like all things in life, or perhaps even more so, reputation is a very important ingredient in this thing we do. Therefore we must be very conscious of how easy it is to harm one. But we also need to bear in mind that one person's rubbish is another person's gold. Just because you don't click with someone or like how they play, as long as they weren't unsafe or reckless, then don't affect their chances of playing with others.

As my grandmother used to tell me, if you've nothing good to say about someone, then don't say anything at all.

Tuesday, October 13

Loving my lurkers!

The wonderful Bonnie, has once again organised a 'love our lurkers' day, the 4th one in what's become an annual event. I'm delighted to join in cos like most bloggers I love when people comment and I love getting to chat to new people.

But I'm even more excited to join in cos just this time last year I was a lonely lurker myself and had been for years. After seeing all the blogs encouraging readers to say hi, I finally started commenting. That turned into email chats and chats turned into real life spanking and playing. It really was that simple and I have no idea what I was afraid of for all those years!

So if you've been lurking around here please say hi today or tomorrow or even the next day :)

And as an extra little incentive, how about this. My next playdate is at the end of the month with HH. For every person who delurks for the first time on the blog (for any post) between now and then I'll take one stroke from HH. And if you nominate an implement in your comment, HH will use the top 3 implements suggested. there might even be a photo in it ;-)

Monday, October 12

A 24/7 lifestyle?

In my fantasy world, I'm not in charge, the toppy/disciplinarian type is. They give orders, I obey or get punished if I don't. It goes without saying that the toppy type is always right and fair and has my best interests at heart. That's how it works. It's for my own good.

But for all my fantasising, I know that's all it is, a fantasy. Sure, a very small part of me would like to live that lifestyle. Why not, it's warm, safe and cosy. Except my realistic side knows that ultimately it's not something that would fulfill me 24/7.

I actually like being in control, organising everyone and bossing them all about. I take pride in being independent and responsible. I like achieving things on my own merit. And I also delight in saying 'feck it anyway' and being silly and crazy just for the sake of it! And I'm well capable of fighting my own battles. Just sometimes it's nice to have someone there to do it for you, or to lean on when you need it.

And whatever about the fact I know it wouldn't fulfill me submitting to someone else's authority all the time, I doubt I'd be able to manage it anyway. Finding that balance of submission and control between two people in everyday life is difficult to maintain.

For me personally, the only way it could possibly work was if I wrote the toppy type a never ending list of do's and don't and exceptions to the rule, which I updated on a weekly basis.

I'd imagine it'd go something like this

Rule 1 - Emma Jane will be punished if she stays up late online on a school night
Exceptions to the above include but are not limited to:

Providing comfort to a friend in need;
Chatting to her sister who's in a different time zone;
Writing a blog post due the next day;
If she figures she has a pretty easy day ahead at work the next day so staying up late won't matter and she can always go in a bit late anyway, sure she's been working all hours lately.

Hmmm, I think the toppy type would break long before I would. So best for all concerned if I keep my bratting and submission to defined periods of play where we can both escape from it afterwards!

Wednesday, October 7

A sick imagination

I've been rather unwell this week, hence the lack of posts. Not only have I lacked energy, I just haven't been in a kinky frame of mind. However, today I seem to have turned a corner. As I endured another day of enforced bed rest my kinky mind suddenly woke up and started to entertain me (and about time too!).

Here's one of the ideas I had today. I enjoyed twisting it back and forth!

A girl skives off school pretending to be sick. The housekeeper buys her fake coughs and sniffles but not her strict Uncle. On returning early from work he inspects her rigorously, determining that she is indeed faking. The sound thrashing that follows ensures she won't try that again.
A girl is sick. Her Uncle is very concerned for her well being and orders her to stay in bed. He forbids her from using her phone or laptop. When he happens upon her sending an email to a friend he is not swayed by her sickly cries. Over his knee she goes for a short but hard spanking, all for her own good.

Saturday, October 3

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Jessica posted yesterday about how she was in dommely mode last weekend and mused on her various role characters and how different they are. In particular she wrote about Juliet, the most sadistic of her characters, who's commonly seen as a bitch and wondered just what is so appealing about her.

Knowing Jessica the real person for several months now, I can understand why she wonders over her. Jessica is the complete opposite of Juliet, infinitely more likable, sweet and caring. The ultimate safe person to play with as a fellow sub/bottom or top, especially if you're a newbie.

Juliet is a completely different story, almost terrifying in her evilness. She just doesn't want to punish you, she openly gets off on your suffering. She wants to teach you a lesson so severe you'll never cross her again. Mercy is not a word she understands. And it's not that Juliet necessarily whacks any harder, she's just far more creative in what she does to you!

Like at HWMBO's party last weekend. Juliet made me stand on a chair in front of all the other girls, made me lift my skirt above my waist and doled out my first band of fire. Not to teach me a lesson, no. But to set an example to the newest girl in the group, about just how painful a strapping on the front, back and sides of the thighs is!

But it was at Haron's party the following day that I got my first proper taste of Juliet in full flow. Noticing I had misbehaved in some little way, she ordered me to her in front of the entire room of guests. In a tone that brooked no opposition she told me to take off my skirt and give it to her.

I didn't even think to disobey. She was in ultimate Juliet mode, terrifyingly hot in look and manner. I slowly took my skirt off and handed it to her. My blouse was next, until I stood in front of her clad only in my socks, knickers and bra. I was a disgrace to Lowewood and was not permitted the honour of wearing the uniform. With that scathing comment she banished me to the corner, where shame kept me company.

It wasn't long before distraction arrived in the form of fellow Byron housemate, Felicity. Giggling at the sight of me near naked in the corner, she started to spank me. Not a good idea, and in one sudden movement I had her pinned to the floor, where we wrestled until we were both painfully lifted off the floor by our hair and dragged up upstairs to be punished.

Felicity was defiant at first, I was much too scared to argue, apologising to Juliet immediately. She left us standing in the hallway, both in our underwear until she was ready to deal with us.

Once inside her room we had to lie face down on the bed while she whipped us with a series of implements. We were fast on the way to becoming very sorry girls. And all the while she teased and tormented us about how we were in her power and no-one could save us. That we were only lowly Byron girls, not worth bothering with really.

By the end of our session we were both completely subdued, thinking it could not get any worse. That our pain and humiliation was surely complete. But when she made us kneel on the bed, legs wide apar, I realised our humiliation was not at all complete. For Juliet knows well where a girl's real weakness is and soon had us crying in shame, as our bodies betrayed us to her caresses.

To finish she caned us hard across our thighs, 1 for Felicity as it was her first time to endure it, 3 for me. Unerringly accurate the cane fell exactly where she indicated it would, leaving 3 bright welts across my thighs. She finally dismissed us with the order for Felicity to report to Mr Shaftbotham and me to report to Rev Jenkins and explain how we had been dealt with and to ask for permission to re-join the party.

I blogged before how I find it more of a turn-on to submit to women. My natural instincts tell me not to. But when Jessica is Juliet I'm too scared to disobey, too excited deep down to not play along, and thinking about it incredulously afterwards to not want to do it again.

Not that I'd want to have Juliet around all the time, but every so often is just perfect. The rest of the time I want nice and fun Jessica to laugh and giggle with.